


Oro Rising

by Bleys_Icefalcon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Christianity, Gen, Paganism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2017-12-07 09:14:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bleys_Icefalcon/pseuds/Bleys_Icefalcon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fallen angel awakens, and finds things have changed</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oro Rising

Oro… that was his name.

He was sure of it.

His eyes slid open where a dark, moist heat touched them.

He opened his mouth to draw a breath, to speak into that darkness, and immediately closed it – the same heated moistness filled his mouth.

It was… uncomfortable – which meant it was very, very hot.

Oro thought on this for a moment.

What could be so hot that even he would be discomforted? Then like a stunning shock, recollection struck him a blow. His daughter, Yva, had betrayed him. She had sacrificed herself to save… the Lowborn? When he had risen once again in Aspect, he had taken her and the two Lowborn infidels to the Eru – the center of the world, and as he struck the blow which would have raised the waves a mile high the world over, would have preserved his Children…

Oro wept. Yva was his only child, first of his Children. She stepped before his might, took the blow into herself, held it, and died. In despair Oro had collapsed, even as the Eru took him. In grim satisfaction, he realized the Lowborn likely died as well – the tremendous force of his blow could not be fully absorbed by Yva. But it was a brief flitting satisfaction. A moment of concentration and he was upon the Crown, that shining boulevard at the heart of Nyo, the City of the Children.

And his Children were gone. All of them. The cavern had partially collapsed over the centuries of his slumber, his death. Yet this world survived, he would endure. Oldest of the Brothers, his lot was here, watching.

Guiding.

And smiting.

His chosen, those few who had glimpsed what he truly was, the Children of Wisdom, had finally departed. Somehow he knew they hadn’t all died. They were too great of a people, touched by His hand – they must have endured. Another moment of concentration and he felt them.

But not them.

Their blood had thinned over the eons, he felt their descendants – though in a few cases the blood was strong. He was about to translate to one of them when one of his Brothers spoke to his mind.

“Oro? We thought you’d died to true death. What a wonder to behold your Glory reborn!” came the ever joyful voice of Simiel.

Oro considered his thoughts carefully “I Have slept over-long Brother. My Children are scattered to the four winds. And they are diminished. What has happened in the run of the centuries?”

And Simiel was there, before him. His vessel was different, as it would likely be after so many centuries, a strong, apparently Mesopotamian man who gladly accepted Simiel’s possession. As they are wont, the other Archangel gently caressed Oro’s brow and the interceding centuries blurred by. Oro blinked slowly and nodded.

“Our Father does nothing? Lucifer is free? And ruling in Heaven? Uriel, Raphael, even Gabriel – dead? The world in its second millennia of suffering, and He does nothing?” Oro gasped out. He realized his mistake immediately. Simiel was alive, not as the Herald of God – but of Lucifer. Lucifer had claimed enough souls that he stood upon the Ramparts of Heaven proclaiming himself a new God. Any who stood before him, he’d destroyed.

So Oro did what any God Loving Archangel should do. Before Simiel could bring up his aspect, Oro raised his own. Simiel had indeed grown in power over the centuries – but he was no match for the Lord of the Earth. Yet he had little time. Lucifer would come now. And quickly.

Opening his mind, the Traveler sought out and found another dimension, one he hoped Lucifer would not be able to find too easily, and stepped through.

He needed help. One thing each of the Archangels had always known was the Mind of the Lord. Even in the pit the Mercy of God stood waiting for Lucifer’s repentance. If only he could let go of his ancient rage – forgiveness was there for the Morning Star. But now, Oro did not feel the Lord’s presence, which means that somehow he was not of that dimension. Somehow he’d either been banished to another, or had travelled willingly. Either way, only the Lord of Hosts would be able to stop Lucifer now.

Oro paused and considered for a moment. He was not the merciful type. He felt little love for the Second Come, the Humans. He loved them only as He commanded it. They were all that Lucifer said they were – unkind, selfish, cruel, barbaric, and vile. Yet they were His creations, and He loved them; therefore Oro loved them. It had pained Oro to raise the water’s of the Great Flood, to smite the world and the humans for their wicked ways. They didn’t get the message though. Amazing how blind they were to the Voice inside of them. Their conscience was the Voice of God. He gave them free will, and if they chose to ignore that will, He loved them no less. And in turn so did Oro.

In his haste, Oro had cast himself to wherever this place was. He paused to extend his will – and withdrew with a start. While they were not his Children per say, they felt like them. Swathing his physical form in shadow, he cast his ethereal form out and moved to the nearest concentration of them. He didn’t have time to note much more than the differences in their physical appearance, slightly upturned and pointed ears, hairless bald pates, men and women – and children as well, ritualistic tattoos that were imbued with psionic energy on many of them – when a proud elder woman stepped out of her elaborately decorated tent and strode directly before his transparent form.

“I am Tara of the Ulbek Clan of the People” she spoke aloud, causing many of her fellow villagers to turn in his direction, though none seemed to sense him as she did “What is your purpose here, Spirit?” With this proclamation, many of the villagers’ psionic energies began to flare to life.

With a twist of Will, he solidified and made apparent his form, though it remained as insubstantial as wind – also it now had the upturned ears and hairlessness of these Children “I am Oro, the Traveler. My purpose is to thwart a Great Evil. I seek aid from the People” He read her mind easily, though he had to admit it was with effort to do so without her knowledge “The Ulbek Clan and the Nyo Clan are kin from the Time of Towers – I was Oba of the Nya. I am Brother to the Oba of the Ulbek. My need is plain.”

The people believed that the Oba, the Spirit of the Clan, was a given clan’s first ancestor, spun from the musing thoughts of the worlds birth. Never before had there been a visitation from an Oba. Tara knew this, as Elder and Shaman, she was the keeper of the Lore and the Law. Likely this was a Trickster of some sort, as many of her kin – now in concert with her – were concluding. She decided to act.

“I know not of a Nyo Clan at the Great Towers, though I admit, the scrolls are old and incomplete. Yet there has ever been 12 Clans of the People passed down from Shaman to Shaman for over 200 cycles. It is more likely you are what you seem – a Haunt – a Spirit….a Trickster!” and with that she struck. Even though he was prepared for the blow, it still surprised him. She struck at him not only with her own might, but the funneled and tightly controlled might of many of her people as well. Were He not who He was, Oro would have died. Even so, he had to use real effort to deflect, and in turn absorb the energy directed at his projection, and subsequently along the silvery cord which attached him to it.

To say Tara was surprised would be an understatement. She’d sent enough power at this Spirit to level an acre of forest. Yet, it simply smiled at her. And then it began to glow. It glowed so brightly, both in the physical world and on the mindscape that in both perceptions she and her tribe were forced to turn away. When the light began to dim, she realized it was no longer a spirit – it had crossed over, and was whole!

“The Nyo Clan was not at the Great Towers, but was instead in the Great Hollow, they were called the Children of Wisdom Under the Earth. I am their Oba. I am the last of the Oba to walk upon these lands, to breath the sweet air, to smell the forest.” He spoke quietly at first, to suddenly change the timbre of his voice – infusing it with a small token of His power “I Am that I Am. I am Oro the Traveler. And I am in need of your aid.”

Tara, Daughter of Cree, Daughter of Nar, Daughter of Kisbet, 33rd Shaman of the Oba of the Ulbek Clan of the People fell to her knees in worship.  
She felt the ring of truth in Oro’s words.

An Oba had come to the Clans.

“What would you command of us Great One?” she stammered out, this was unprecedented. One of the Ancients had come, and the Scrolls did not discuss even the thought of such an occurrence. Yet here He stood, and Oba of the People.

Oro stood impassive a moment, his mind racing. They accepted him, he could feel their unreserved love of the forest and the river, the denizens which lived in both. These People lived in perfect harmony with their environment, as they had done so for over forty generations. Inwardly he sighed, knowing he would cause them an undeserved burden. But it was only matter of time before The Morning Star arrived. Readily he read from the minds of the People that which he needed.

“Rise, Daughter” and he paused the death of his own beloved suddenly sharp “Gather the Blooded, they depart for the Darkenwold at dawn – to seek the insights of the Kuriann. She will know what must be done.”

The Kuriann. On Earth she would be called a Pagan God. Here, he could feel her even from this distance. In their minds she was a seer and oracle. And sight was something he needed. He needed to find his Father, and could not approach her himself. Oro was Lord of the Earth, but not this Earth. She would master him completely. Should could feel her fires, and they burned significantly brighter than his own. As it was it was everything he could do to mask his presence from her. She was old, though not so old as the People.

And she was hungry.

“Take with you two of the fattest Oxen, wait until you approach the Dark of the Wood to carefully slaughter and dress them. Use the old rites, and honor Her name. Then enter her abode with the offering held before you. Make no mention of my name, no mention of my presence. Only ask- where can the Creator of All be found.”

Then he vanished

And he waited

Oro had come and death came with him.


End file.
